Vicious Traditions
by Stained Blue
Summary: Life is just a cycle of vicious traditions.


Title: Vicious Traditions

A/N: I love Alexander Anderson; he makes me proud to be Catholic. It is my love that drives me to render him utterly human.

Disclaim: I obviously don't own, or else why would I be writing this crummy little fanfic?

Warning: Rape fic (kind of, well really an abuse of power/taking advantage of someone fic…which should be considered rape). Yaoi.

Alucard leaned against an old tree, watching the Judas Priest stand guard over the small flock of young children. Behind Alucard, Seras shifted anxiously. He couldn't be bothered with her as he stared at his priest.

Anderson had proved to be quite the rival, and Alucard knew he was walking the thin line between love and hate; either way he tilted, he was nervous to fall. He grinned predatorily, his lips sliding away from sharp fangs as Anderson bent down. A small boy dashed up to the priest, whimpering, with fat tears rolling down his rosy cheeks. Anderson simply bent at the waist and ran gloved fingers over the wound, almost as if pulling the pain from the child and into himself, before ruffling the little boy's hair and sending him back into play.

The sun glinted down into the courtyard and lay about Anderson in a holy way, catching on his rounded glasses and turning his hair a shade darker than silver. The wind shifted just barely, and Alucard was able to smell incense and rosemary, sandalwood and blood scent that lingered all over Angel Dust Anderson. Seras shifted nervously again, having finally come into her vampirism, and she was wisely skittish about being near the other domineering predator, despite the fact that Anderson looked so adorably tame surrounded by young children and smiling contentedly.

Maxwell strolled leisurely into the yard; the children skirted past him, chasing the black and white ball. The Archbishop stopped beside Anderson, and Alucard caught the slight bristle that tensed the paladin's broad shoulders. Maxwell's head was bent down, his left hand clasped on Anderson's shoulder as his spoke. Alucard caught the subtle movement of Maxwell's thumb brushing against Anderson's neck. Something unspeakable rose sharply in Alucard's mouth, and in a fury he turned on Seras. His fledgling looked at him in shock as he grabbed her roughly and dragged her back toward the waiting car.

When he slammed the car door behind him, Walter raised a single, dark brow in question but said nothing as he started the car and drove away from the inner sanctum of the Vatican. Seras gave him a look as she relocated her shoulder in its proper joint. Alucard brooded the rest of the way back to the Hellsing Headquarters, then disappeared deep within the depths of the mansion looking for a way to escape the foreign feelings that were pounding in his skull and chest. In a fit of unexplained fury, he threw himself at the unyielding stone wall, clawing and biting and punching and kicking at the ancient masonry in an attempt to kill the hurt.

He slumped on the floor, a tangle of black hair, stolen blood and torn clothing and looked up at an unimpressed Walter. Walter lifted his gaze from Alucard's crumpled form, and light glanced off the older man's monocle. "I assume this has to deal with the Vatican's pet monster." Alucard bristled slightly and drew up, towering just barely over the old Hellsing agent. "You know," Walter said in clipped tones as he removed his monocle and polished the lens on his shirt sleeve before replacing the glass, "I'd see the truth before jumping to conclusions."

For a moment, Alucard and Walter simply stared at one another until Alucard drew back into the shadows and ran from shadow to shadow until appearing gracefully in Sir Integra's office. The lovely blonde turned ice blue eyes on his flickering form before returning back to the book she held in her long-fingered grasp. "Yes." Alucard carefully overstepped the hint of agitation in his Master's voice. "I want permission to leave the mansion for the weekend."

The book's dusty covered slammed together with a dull thump, and the book was dropped on the desktop. Integra steepled her fingers together in front of her face in thought. "You're demanding permission to leave?" He nodded, his long black hair flickering and fluxing about his body. "Why?" Alucard pressed his lips together, as if cement had stuck his fangs together. His Master let out a weary sigh and waved him away, "Go on. Have fun." He felt as if Integra had read his mind in some way but leaked back through the floor and out onto the grounds. He ran hard, having to get from London to Rome in so few hours. His body drifted from shadow to shadow until he found the cathedral in the center of the city; the Vatican's sanctuary.

The church was huge; its gothic architecture was beautiful, alluring and dangerous as gargoyles and grotesques leered down at him. He vaguely remembered the church being built. With a sly smile, Alucard sunk through the cobblestone street of Rome and into the lower levels of the city's sewer. He walked along the raised platforms until finding a hatch that led into the underbelly of the hulking cathedral. He forced the wrought iron away and slipped up into the belly of the enormous edifice.

Silence lurked in all the dark corners, and Alucard felt his skin prickle. It was just a momentary reversion into humanity before he opened eyes in all the shadows in search of the Judas Priest. He couldn't find Anderson on the bottom level, so he drifted further into the edifice through massive great halls filled with pews and tables and altars. Every where he looked, the dying image of Christ seemed to stare back at him.

Alucard stumbled upon the priest purely by accident. He had barely removed his head from the shadow of the wall before Anderson had stalked into the room. Quickly, Alucard sunk back into the shadow and filtered there, between solid worlds.

Anderson prowled the room, the epitome of pent up anger and frustration. His teeth were bared, revealing blunt fangs, and his eyes flashed dangerously like sea foam before a storm. His fingers clenched and unclenched spasmodically as his boots thudded on the dusty floor. Then the door knob turned again, Anderson ceased to be angry and stressed, and Maxwell stepped in. Anderson regarded the cool, blonde man with a silent look. "Wha doo yah want?"

Maxwell smiled a flash of perfect teeth in a beautiful face. "Father Anderson, surely you know what I want. It's what I've wanted since I was young." Anderson gave Maxwell yet another look, but stepped backwards, bringing him in close vicinity with Alucard's face. Light glanced off Anderson's glasses when he looked down as if confused. Maxwell took an almost predatory step forward, and the movement pulled Anderson's gaze from the floor.

"Tisn't right in teh eyes ah God." Alucard snapped his gaze back to Maxwell, whose light blue eyes flashed in agitation. In that brief second, Alucard knew what was coming. It was a trick that Integra used on him all the time. "Alexander," Maxwell purred softly while prowling ever closer, "you are merely the Vatican's pet. My pet. And I will do with you as I wish." Something revolted in Alucard's stomach as Maxwell finally closed the gap and ran a gloved finger along Anderson's strong jaw. Alucard could hear the slight rustle of the soft fabric over stubble.

Alucard gritted his fangs together, but didn't move as Maxwell pressed against Anderson and kissed the older man with something akin to possessiveness. The ferocity of Maxwell's kiss brought blood from Anderson's lip. Alucard could smell it; he wanted to taste it. When Maxwell finally released Anderson and shifted back down on the soles of his shoes, he was gazing up at the Judas Priest with adoration in his eyes. Alucard had seen that same adoration in the eyes of people who loved death and destruction and war. Maxwell didn't want Anderson because of who the priest was but rather what the priest could do, for the power the priest possessed. Alucard bit back the growl and drew closer in the shadows.

Slowly, Maxwell's fingers ran down Anderson's cassock and shirt, undoing buttons as the curious digits went. Alucard felt his gaze drawn to those flashes of lurid, dark flesh. Alucard had always wondered what the paladin was hiding beneath layers and layers of cloth, and now that he had a chance to see, Alucard couldn't help but watch.

The black material of the heavy cassock and lighter shirt tenderly slipped off Anderson's shoulders, laying his chest and shoulders bare. Where Anderson's back touched the wall, Alucard could almost feel the heat that the other let off. He brushed closer, pressing gingerly against Anderson's back, warming the stones with the heat that coursed from his stolen blood. Alucard could feel the smooth, raised skin of past battle wounds, the knobs of Anderson's spine, the wings of his shoulder blades.

Maxwell's greedy, gloved fingers ran sharply over Anderson's broad chest, bypassing the cross still dangling against the tanned skin and trailing down Anderson's slender waist, catching at neat hips and pulling the paladin closer. Alucard stared into Maxwell's open face, as the Archbishop took mad glee in ravishing one of his most loyal priests. Slowly, Alucard disengaged from the shadows and drifted about the room, settling in the shadows on the opposite side so that he could get a proper look at the Judas Priest.

Anderson took his breath away. The priest's dark skin was pulled taunt against chiseled muscles. Scars lapped across the sun-darkened skin and blonde, curled chest hair. A fleeting fancy rushed across his mind as Alucard wondered what it would feel like to rub his own porcelain smooth skin against Anderson's haired frame. He stepped closer to the wall's front, staring intently at Anderson's face. The priest's eyes had closed off, become disassociated orbs of emerald green that stared off into space.

That absent gaze flickered across the stones that held Alucard's face and then came back; for a brief moment Alucard wondered if Anderson had seen him and pulled back further into the wall. Anderson searched the wall briefly before slipping back into an absent state of mind.

Maxwell bit down hard on Anderson's collarbone, breaking the skin and leaving a mark that healed almost immediately. The younger's hips ground against Anderson's, gloved fingers clutching at narrow hips. Anderson's gaze shifted to the ceiling, and Maxwell finally had had enough of his priest's inattentiveness. Maxwell's hand reared back, and he backhanded Anderson. The contact made a sharp pop in the silence of the room. Because he hadn't been paying attention, the blow caught Anderson off guard, and his head snapped across toward the wall, following the path Maxwell's hand would've travelled if it hadn't come in contact with Anderson's face. Alucard nearly hissed, but instead hunched his shoulders in suppressed rage.

"Dammit!" Maxwell roared, glaring with flashing blue eyes. "You act if it is so hard to just be with me. It's not as if I just asked for a ring. I want a quick fuck in the church's basement." Maxwell's right hand clutched at Anderson's strong neck, and Alucard could hear the strong tendons and flexible cartilage being rolled beneath those fingers. The Archbishop jerked Anderson's head down and glowered into those chilly green eyes. "Do not act like a skittish young virgin with me, for I know your deepest, darkest desires and sins. I. Own. You."

Alucard could hear Anderson's teeth grinding against each other as those eyes flashed through a myriad of shades of green, one for all the emotions Anderson felt: dark green, bright green, blue-green, grey-green. "Yes _Master,_" Anderson conceded, his head dipping slightly like a whipped dog. The low growl shook Alucard to his core; never had he thought that Maxwell would force Anderson to call him Master. A sick little smile curled Maxwell lips sharply. "Good," the slender blonde whispered, stroking his fingers along Anderson's strong form. Maxwell's lips slipped softly up across the strong column of Anderson's neck, nipping harshly at the soft spot just behind the jaw hinge. "Just act as if you enjoy it; just let me have you this once. Please Alex. For me?"

At the clipped off version of his name, Anderson's right eye twitched, but the paladin said nothing. Maxwell glowered up at Anderson until the priest practically purred, "Yes Master," in a low, sultry voice that shocked the hell out of Alucard; the vampire was barely able to lock his frame in place as Anderson's tone practically melted his spine from his body. It seemed to have the same effect on Maxwell, who smiled tenderly up at the taller, older blonde and slumped against that broad chest. "Let me love you Alex."

Maxwell's gloved fingers hooked into the waistband of Anderson's pants as Maxwell stared lustfully up at the paladin. The relaxed stance that Anderson's form took was too easily given by someone as willful as Anderson, leading Alucard to believe the relaxation to be forced. Anderson's head lolled softly on his neck, bringing his scarred face close to Maxwell's. The Archbishop worried his bottom lip before searing his mouth to Anderson's in a hot kiss.

Instinct seemed to drive Maxwell as his gloved fingers dug sharply into Anderson's unruly hair, pulling the taller man down. Alucard could hear the clink of tooth against tooth, could smell the blood as Maxwell bit down hard on Anderson's soft lip. Maxwell used Anderson's hair as reins, tugging the other away from the wall and forcing the paladin down onto the old metal table sitting in the center of the room. Anderson proved to be a little too tall for the table as his head lingered in the air and his feet touched the ground.

The metal groaned sharply as Anderson's broad back came in contact with the surface. Maxwell released the priest's mouth, his lips moving down Anderson's throat, chest and stomach in a frenzy of lust. Anderson's head fell back in space to stare at the wall from an upside-down perceptive, and Alucard would've sworn that Anderson made eye-contact as those jade eyes roved the wall. Maxwell's teeth nipped at the skin pulled taunt over Anderson's hip. It shocked a startled yelp from the paladin, which was more than Alucard had ever gotten, causing the priest to look up and glower at an oblivious Maxwell. With a breath, Alucard floated up to the ceiling and stared down at Anderson.

Anderson's head tipped back into space, and his green eyes roved up the wall. Alucard felt as if the priest was following his shadow trail. When Anderson's jade eyes flickered along the ceiling, Alucard sunk deeper into the space between floors. He watched as Anderson's eyes shifted back into blankness.

Maxwell tore the black slacks from Anderson's neat hips, pulling the shoes off with the pants and letting the articles of clothing fall to the floor. Anderson lifted up on his elbows, making the muscles in his chest more distinct. He gave Maxwell a chiding look, a look that Alucard was sure Anderson had given Maxwell when the Archbishop was younger. "Was tha really necessary?" Maxwell just looked up at Anderson with darkening eyes and said nothing; instead his gloved fingers slowly pulled Anderson's boxers down as if opening a much awaited Christmas present.

Alucard could see a snarl gently curl on corner of Anderson's mouth for not receiving a response. Before the paladin could scold Maxwell for ignoring his elders, Maxwell's gloved hand wrapped around Anderson's limp member and stroked gently. Anderson's eyes fell shut of their own accord, and his head fell back. A deep moan reverberated in Anderson's chest. Maxwell grinned victoriously.

Quickly, Maxwell stroked the priest's member to hardness even as Anderson's face contorted as if deeply troubled. Alucard briefly wondered why Anderson let the Archbishop treat him as he did, but a soft cry tore itself free from Anderson's throat, calling Alucard's attention back from his wandering thoughts.

Strong, chorded muscles steeled Anderson's frame as the paladin's back bowed, his hips arching up into Maxwell's grasp. Maxwell removed his grip and smiled as the faithful priest slumped back onto the table with a soft pant as his extremities shook with lingering shocks of bliss. Weary green eyes fluttered open. That gaze was brittle, wounded for just a moment before steel came back into Anderson's eyes, as if the paladin had encased his heart and emotions in an iron box and dropped that box to the depths of his soul.

Without any hesitation, Maxwell began to fumble with his own clothes. The thin man shed layers, casually dropping the revered cloth on the dirty ground in his haste to take advantage of Anderson's docile, post-orgasmic state. Alucard compared Maxwell and Anderson's bodies with a critical eye. Maxwell was almost too thin, laced with small, wiry muscles; his skin was a near sickly shade of pale and almost completely hairless. Next to Anderson, Maxwell looked young and frail. Anderson had lived, and his body was testament to that fact. Maxwell had ruled, and his body practically screamed it.

Maxwell forced Anderson's legs apart and stepped closer to the still priest. Anderson's head tipped back off the table, exposing the strong neck that Alucard almost desperately wanted to nip and suckle at. Alucard knew that Maxwell was too greedy to really revel in what he was about to do, and instead, he chose to watch Anderson's face. Those expressive green eyes had turned glassy, as if in anticipation of on-coming pain, which puzzled Alucard seeing as the paladin was more than able to withstand great amounts of pain. Alucard doubted that Maxwell would be able to pain Anderson, even if the Archbishop whipped Anderson with a mace.

His red gaze flickered back to Maxwell as the Archbishop thrust into the priest's limp form. One of Anderson's broad hands had slipped off the table, his knuckles nearly touched the floor, and his fingertips twitched just barely, but other than that the priest didn't move, even to breathe. Alucard watched as Maxwell's gloved fingertips dug into Anderson's strong, barely moving chest, dragging down and leaving angry red marks in their wake. Maxwell's hips raged against Anderson's body, making the table's legs squeal against the old, stone floor. The cross slipped up into the hollow of Anderson's strong throat, and Alucard wanted to kiss that metal.

The Archbishop dropped his head and nipped sharply at Anderson's stomach. Alucard could smell the leak of blood that erupted from the busted skin before the flesh stitched back together. Maxwell let a growl rumble weakly out of his chest as Anderson continued to just lie beneath him before he grabbed Anderson's flaccid cock and began to pull rapidly.

Anderson let out a cry that sounded almost wounded as his back bowed. The paladin's eyes squinted shut as if trying to block out the sensations as Maxwell forced his body into the pleasure. Maxwell's lips split in a devious expression as his shoulders hunched, his own back bowing as his thrusts became more erratic. Alucard could hear Anderson's pulse thundering in his ears and was reminded of virgins and their first times, though he greatly doubted that the priest was a virgin. Maxwell's fingers tightened on Anderson's hips, holding the older man still as he ravished the priest's body. The Archbishop's body tensed in bliss, his back strung tight as his mouth fell open in loud moan. Anderson stilled beneath Maxwell, his body withering back into disinterest when the other finally slumped. Maxwell's hand patted Anderson on the chest while he grinning vibrantly. "Thank you Alex."

Maxwell pulled out, leaving Anderson looking broken and exposed. The Archbishop slowly dressed, his pale gaze lingering on Anderson's frame before turning on his heel and walking away. The heavy door slammed closed with a note of finality. Alucard settled down into the shadows and watched Anderson, waiting for normalcy to return. But long moments pulled past, and Anderson remained spread out on the table. His glassy green eyes stared up at the ceiling listlessly. Slowly, Alucard shifted the shadows and covered Anderson's naked form in a comforting manner, sinking from the ceiling to pool on the floor. He lifted from the puddle of shadows and lurked over Anderson in a hovering fashion. Anderson's gaze lifted to his. "Wha ah surprise," Anderson growled, though his voice lacked real anger or hate. That tone was simply empty, and Alucard furrowed his brow.

Slowly, Anderson lifted from the table as if his body was too heavy for movement. The shadows slipped away from his tanned flesh, feeling like a caress in a deeper part of Alucard as the shadows returned to him, as Anderson got up from the table, swaying on unsteady feet. For a brief moment, the paladin swayed on his feet, one broad hand spread on the table's top for support until he seemed to find his equilibrium. Anderson bent, the buttons of his spine rising from his skin, and retrieved his clothes from the floor. Slowly Anderson redressed, with each of his motions calculated and stiff before he turned around to face Alucard. "So ya watched aye?" Again, there was that empty tone.

Alucard decided he didn't like this broken Anderson; he wanted the priest to freak out in a mad rage and try to kill him. He wanted to feel blessed blades rip through his frame, tearing his skin and shadows. He wanted Anderson to take all of his righteous, devastating anger toward Maxwell on his body. Alucard smirked, showing his fangs in an attempt to rile his counterpart. Anderson simply stared at Alucard, his eyes listless. "I never took you to be a bottom," Alucard sneered. Anderson simply shrugged. "I'm jus ah dog, jus like you. I do as I'm told."

He frowned at the nonchalant tone of Anderson's voice. "Even Sir Integra draws the line at that kind of usage." Anderson shrugged his broad shoulders yet again and straightened his cassock and cross and turned his back as if to leave. "Of course," Alucard sneered in a final attempt to force Anderson into a rage, "I shouldn't be all that surprised about your preferences considered you're a Catholic. I suppose I should just be grateful that it's Maxwell instead of your orphans."

Anderson's shoulders squared and the priest turned around, a snarl curling his lips. "Wha did ya say, ya heathen beast." Alucard grinned, loving the immense rage that filled those sharp green eyes. "I think you heard me Anderson." He could feel the anger pouring off the Judas Priest, and it struck something deep in his heart, nearly making up for the broken Anderson he had been subjected to.

Within seconds, Anderson's body was slamming into Alucard's, pinning him heavily against the uneven surface of the stone wall with broad hands and a hot, hard body. A deep growl reverberated in Anderson's chest, transferring to Alucard's frame where their bodies touched. "Ya goddamned beast!" Anderson's fist crashed into his face, caving in his cheek and tearing his mouth open on his sharp teeth. Alucard slumped softly against Anderson and was surprised when Anderson held him up, the priest's heavy, uneven breath stirring strands of his shadowy hair. "Tha wasn't funny," the priest growled softly, and Alucard could practically feel the tinges of sorrow.

But instead of continuing to fight, Anderson just stepped back. Alucard felt the bones of his face shift back into place and fuse together. Anderson stared at him with melancholy eyes before turning away and pulling the door open. Alucard opened his mouth to call Anderson back but the door shut behind the priest with a sense of finality.

Alucard began to shift back into shadows before finally sinking into the floor and landing in a crouch in the sewer. He backtracked through the bowels of Rome until he reached the outskirts of the immense city. He took a deep breath and shifted until his body tore apart into millions of dark shadows, slipping across the surface of countries and sea until reaching Hellsing's doorstep. His body swept back together, and for a moment, he just stared at the ancient, heavy door of the mansion. Somewhere, not so deep in his mind, he wanted desperately to kill Enrico Maxwell. He wanted to tear the callous blonde apart limb by limb. Something told him that Anderson, his Judas Priest, would never be the same. Instead of dashing back to Rome, Alucard took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

The first rays of the sunrise clawed at his back, and he welcomed the pain. It made him forget Anderson's pain for just a brief moment before he closed the heavy door behind him. Alucard leaned against the door, staring at the wall across from him before sinking through the floor and back into the pits of the mansion, looking for any place at all to forget the empty tone of Anderson's voice, the priest's brittle gaze, the open and broken look of the man's body. He desperately wanted to find a way out of the vicious traditions of Catholics fighting Protestants so that he could hold his priest, curl his shadows about the paladin and promise that Maxwell would pay, but knew he would settle for baiting the priest, giving the regenerator a way of to escape the all consuming pain and guilt he knew that would nearly consume Anderson as the priest swallowed the blame.


End file.
